It's a Matter of Trust
by I am The Lev
Summary: Tossed out of the gang, Allan A Dale seeks the help of his childhood friend, Morgan Weaver, the castle's blacksmith. Morgan is determined to help her friend, no matter the consequences.
1. A matter of friendship

Disclaimer: I don't own Robin Hood.

Author's note: Hey, this is my first Robin Hood fanfiction. It's set after season two, episode five, so there'll be spoilers if you haven't seen the show to that point. I'll openly admit that I wrote the gang a little bit OOC, but they've just been betrayed, so I think it's understandable. Enjoy!

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Morgan rode slowly, partially because of the load of swords in her cart, partially because she enjoyed the quiet of the mornings in Sherwood Forest. No part of her childhood had been quiet, and very little of it had been peaceful. Now, with her brother off in the Holy Lands and her mother taken ill, home offered very little peace either, especially with the new Sheriff and his taxes. Sherwood was like an escape. An arrow sliced through the air, planting itself in the side of her cart with a thunk, interrupting her musings.

"A fine wagon you've got there!" She couldn't see the speaker, his location hidden by the way his voice resounded through the quite woods. She didn't need to see him. "We'll relieve you of its contents, if you don't mind." He appeared over a ledge, an arrow notched in his bow, a cocky smile plastered on his face. Morgan held her hands up, a gesture not so much of complete surrender as it was of compliance.

"I'll do you one better," she offered, tapping her foot against the floor of her cart. "You can have the lot, and I'll get you into the castle." The offer tempted him from the ledge. He slid down the gentle slope of the hill and stood before her, crossing his arms across his chest.

"And what makes you think that I want something from the castle?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Well, it's a castle, and you're Robin Hood, aren't you? There's always something worth taking in a castle," she shrugged. He laughed, nodding in agreement.

"What's the catch?" There was a stony quality to the question, revealing the fresh wounds of betrayal. Morgan stared back at him for a moment, fixing him with a calculating stare.

"Me mum," she finally stated simply.

"Your mum?"

"Aye, me mum. She's sick, and I barely make enough to keep us fed after the taxes. Take care of her, and I'll get you into the castle anytime you want," she proposed. The rest of the gang slowly revealed themselves, closing in around her cart. The tallest and most burly of them leaned on his quarterstaff, gazing at her as if looking at her soul.

"Her, I do not trust," he admitted in an almost accusatory tone. Morgan shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Robin looked at her, looked at his friend, looked back at her.

"Calm down, Little John. Let her explain herself," he said calmly. The larger man narrowed his eyes at Morgan. She looked away, bringing the rest of the crew to her attention. They were all giving her a similar stare, one of distrust. Robin tapped the side of her cart with his bow. "Well? How would you get us into the castle?"

"Easily enough. I'm the castle blacksmith," she replied, keeping her voice even despite her mounting discomfort. "It'd be a tight squeeze, but three of you can fit in me cart. The other two can act as escorts. Sheriff's been demanding that I get some escorts, anyway." This explanation produced a mixed reaction. The plan was solid enough, but the fact that she worked for the Sheriff in the first place didn't help her case.

"Master, surely we can't trust her. She works for the Sheriff!" The anxious looking man next to Robin took the time to adjust his cap, his other hand resting nervously on the hilt of his sword. Morgan saw where he was heading with that particular line and shook her head.

"No! It's not like that at all! Me brother's off in the Crusades! He'd come back, but he was promoted. King Richard's personal guard and all," she noted with a familiar feeling of pride. "I'm the only one bringing in any money. I'm not being funny, but it's not like it grows in trees." At her last statement, the gang exchanged significant glances.

"How do you know Allan A Dale?" Robin asked, the friendly edge gone from his voice. Morgan decided that it was best to tell the truth.

"I grew up with him. He's me best friend."

"I knew it! She is not to be trusted!" The panicky one thrust a finger in her face, which Morgan promptly pushed away.

"Sorry, but what's that supposed to mean?" She was slightly affronted by his finger in her face, but she was infinitely more angry at the implication that she wasn't trustworthy. "Not being funny, but you don't know me at all, and here you are, pointing your finger in me face!" The phrase that she'd thrown about so casually since childhood seemed to strike a particular chord with the band of outlaws, and it didn't seem to be a melodious one.

"Go ahead and climb out of the wagon. We're taking the lot. We can get into the castle without your help," Robin finally uttered coldly. Morgan couldn't believe it.

"Weren't you listening to me? I need to take these to the Sheriff! I need the money to care for me mum!" she explained once more, pleading entering her voice.

"Well, we most definitely can't have friends of the Sheriff making deliveries left and right," Djaq scoffed.

"I can't believe it was all lies," she murmured. The gang, which had started to move to the back of her cart, stopped mid-step, turning back to hear her. "All of it." Will had remained silent, but decided that it was the time to speak up.

"What lies?" He asked. Morgan climbed down from her cart, clenching her fists.

"That you lot steal from the rich and give to the poor. That you always try and help those in need. That you're fair and understanding!" With each point, her voice got a little louder, beginning to shake with a mixture of anger and sadness. The complimentary comments brought a small smile to Robin's face.

"Who told you all of that?" he asked, unable to stop the question.

"Allan A Dale, that's who. He told me that you were the nicest bloke he'd ever met, and that you saved his skin, and that you tried to save Tom from the drop, and that you never did wrong. Suppose he was mistaken then, wasn't he?" she practically yelled, storming back towards her village. So much for peace in Sherwood Forest.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

She'd seen him drunk. She'd seen him angry. She'd seen him laugh at something until he couldn't breathe. She'd never seen him sad, not like this. He'd nearly scared her out of her skin, the way he'd just appeared in the doorway of her workshop. He'd stopped by to see her often, but he usually came during the day. The sun was barely shining over the horizon, its last rays flickering through the trees. She put down her mallet and wiped her sweaty hands on the bit of cloth that hung from her belt.

"Allan, you startled me!" she reprimanded lightly, pulling off her apron and gesturing with her free hand to let him in. He closed the door behind him, moving forward and throwing his arms around her, silent sobs racking his body.

"Morgan, help me," he managed softly. She returned the hug, patting him gently on the back. She guided him towards the workshop's small bench, prompting him to sit down.

"What's all this, then? What happened?" she asked, trying to remain calm, wiping the tears from his face. She was concerned. True, she worried about him everyday, especially since she'd found out that he had been running with Robin Hood, but the sorrow in his expression went deeper than that.

"I've done something terrible, Morgan," he finally muttered, closing his hand around hers. She felt it shaking, but allowed him to continue. The words seem to cause him a great deal of pain to say. "I did it for the money. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway. I'd never have put the gang in danger, I swear." His grip tightened on her hands, as if he was signaling for a response.

"Allan, what are you going on about?" Perhaps it wasn't the ideal answer, but given their unique relationship, it was appropriate enough.

"Gisborne's money. He was paying me to give him information about Robin's plans. And I took it. And I gave him what he wanted. Robin found me out, threw me out of the gang," he blurted out quickly, looking away as if expecting Morgan to throw him out as well. She sat in shocked silence for a second. That explained why Robin and his gang had been so unrelenting. Allan had done a lot of things in the past, but he'd always had a good reason. She put a hand on his cheek, turning his head back to her.

"What do you need me to do?" He looked grateful, but pained at the same time.

"I can't ask anything of you, Morgan. I'm not being funny, but you're barely making enough to support you and your mum," he refused, standing and running his fingers through his hair. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You do realize that if you stop giving Gisborne information, he's bound to put a price on you head," she said pointedly, "You're going to need a place to hide." Though it wasn't her intention, the words seemed to anger Allan. He turned on heel to face her.

"I'm tired of hiding, Morgan! I'm tired of being in the shade!" Morgan smirked, standing and putting her hands on his shoulders.

"Then step into the sun. Go to Gisborne. Ask for a job." Allan looked as though Morgan had slapped him round the face, his eyes wide with disbelief. She expected as much and continued. "I hate the Sheriff. You know I do. But I'm his blacksmith, am I not? Think, Allan. Gisborne will have you hunted and killed if it looks like you've simply turned on him. But if you go to him, explain that Robin gave you the boot, he's more likely to understand and give you a job."

"I don't want to work for Gisborne anymore. I don't want to sell my soul," he replied softly. She sighed.

"Allan, I'm not being funny, but Robin isn't going to welcome you back into the fold anytime soon." She ignored the hint of a glare that he threw at her, putting her hands on her hips. "And you can't very well live in the forest on your own. They're a bit angry, your old mates. Just this morning they robbed me of an entire delivery of swords for the Sheriff"

"No," he shook his head, backing up a step, "No. They wouldn't." Morgan nodded.

"Aye, they took me horse and cart, too." Morgan didn't like repeating the story any more than Allan liked hearing it, but it presented him with such clarity of thought that he saw the value of it.

"Morgan, I was never here," he muttered, stooping slightly to plant a quick kiss on her cheek before heading out the door. Morgan's hand moved to her cheek as she watched him go, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

"Morgan Weaver, what a fool you are!" her mother coughed, sitting up in bed to scold her daughter. "Ever since you was a little one, and even worse since you got back from the Holy Land." Morgan smirked as she put more wood on the fire, taking it in stride. It was true, after all. She'd always been a tomboy, running amuck with her older brother, ignoring the way the other little girls acted around her.

"I just don't understand why you couldn't be content to take up the trade." Morgan Weaver was not a weaver. Her father and mother had been weavers. Her grandparents had been weavers. Her brother Michael had been a weaver before he went off to the Holy Land. As for Morgan, a weaver she was not. It wasn't that she hadn't tried to be a weaver. She just had no natural talent for it.

"Mum, if I'd become a weaver, than I'd never make enough money to put food on the table," she pointed out, chuckling when her mother dismissed the solid argument with a frustrated wave of the hand.

"Aye, but that doesn't mean that you had to become a blacksmith. You just went that route so you could spend time with Allan," her mother laughed, noting the pink shade that colored her daughter's face. "You've always fancied that boy. And anyway, I can't believe that Robin Hood and his gang stole all those things from you!" It was an abrupt change of subject, but the incident had been bothering her ever since Morgan had returned home that morning in a huff.

"Mum, they brought Tinder back, and you know that I can make more swords. But if they try anything like that again, I'll have to fight them off. I hate the Sheriff, but we need the money." Her mother shook her head. Though she supported her daughter in her unconventional profession, she could not support the great risk that she intended to undertake.

"Morgan, I do not approve. There has to be some other way to help. You could let Allan stay with us. Goodness knows having a man around would help. Or perhaps you could stop fooling around on the job and make more weapons. Perhaps the sheriff would give you more money if you told him about that special trick you learned in the Holy Lands." Morgan sighed, spooning stew into a bowl. When her brother had joined King Richard's army in the Holy Lands, she had followed. Soon enough, her brother had been promoted to King Richard's personal guard, a fact that she was endlessly proud of. Personally though, she'd stayed away from the front, choosing instead to befriend a Saracen man, a convert to Christianity, a blacksmith. She studied under him, learning techniques, promising never to teach them to those who would misuse them. The Sheriff undoubtedly fell under the category of "those who would misuse them."

"Morgan Weaver, you're stubborn as a mule, you are," her mother muttered, sipping gingerly at the stew. It was as much a blessing as Morgan could hope to get.

"Get it from you, Mum," she sighed under her breath, gulping down her own bowl of stew. It was as much a thanks as her mother could hope to get.


	2. A matter of honesty

Hope you all liked chapter one

Hope you all liked chapter one. Drop some reviews, if you don't mind. No flaming, please.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

"Did I ask to hear you excuses? A clue: no!" The Sheriff snapped, causing Morgan to cringe. She'd worked through the night, but she hadn't managed to fill the Sheriff's order. On top of that, she had taken a new route, circumnavigating the forest to avoid Robin Hood, so she had arrived late that morning. She desperately wanted to tell the Sheriff that she had been robbed, and that it wasn't her fault that he hadn't provided her with guards. Moreover, she wanted to tell him to take one of the swords that she had managed to make and tell him where to forcibly place it. That, however, would spell a certain kind of doom that Morgan was not ready to undertake. She looked straight ahead as the Sheriff yelled at her, knowing full well that he could care less about the swords. He just liked yelling at people.

"My lord, She was robbed by Robin Hood." Morgan suppressed a thankful smile, turning to see Guy of Gisborne walking into the room. "Just yesterday." The Sheriff stopped, tilting his head to the side, whipping around to face Morgan.

"Hood? Just yesterday?" He didn't sound sympathetic, but the glint to his eye told everyone in the room that he was planning something. He left without another word, leaving Morgan in the room with her savior. She managed something of a curtsy.

"Thank you, Sir Guy. I would've told him meself, only I didn't want him to think that Hood was too much for me to handle. I have to keep this job, for me mum, sir." She explained hastily. Guy was friends with her older brother and had gotten Morgan the job in the first place. Morgan disliked the Sheriff, and she couldn't bring herself to agree with most of the things that she'd heard about Guy, but he had never done anything to her personally. He put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

"Don't thank me. Thank my new right-hand man," he stepped to the side, revealing Allan, dressed in the black and grey uniform that signified his new allegiance. The former outlaw was fumbling with the hem of his vest, smirking at Morgan.

"Thank you," Morgan smiled. "So sorry, Sir Guy, but I've got to get to work. I need to finish with the sheriff's order." Guy kept his hand on her shoulder.

"Morgan, I need you to take Allan and get him a sword," he instructed. Morgan nodded.

"Right away, Sir Guy." She took Allan by the hand, leading him to her workshop.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

"You look really smart, Allan," she commented, opening the door to her workshop. She walked across the room, opening a large cabinet. It was lined with weapons of all sorts. She gazed thoughtfully at them, trying to ignore Allan's smug grin.

"You better be careful with those compliments, Morgan. People will talk," he grinned, leaning against the wall. She rolled her eyes, selecting a sword from the cabinet and holding it out to him.

"That should do the trick." Allan tied the sword around his waist, looking at Morgan.

"Am I doing the right thing?" he asked suddenly, his hands dropping to his sides. Morgan closed the cabinet, leaning against it as she mulled the question over.

"If it weren't the right thing, I wouldn't tell you to do it," she shrugged, remembering days gone by. Allan took note of the smile that ghosted across her lips, his own grin broadening.

"You're thinking of Tom's head stuck in that barrel," he chuckled, remembering the occasion. Morgan had used the exact same words to coax Allan's little brother into putting his head into an empty barrel. They couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Morgan held up her hands.

"Guilty," she admitted, "Now, you best be getting back to work. Go on, rabbit off." She ushered him towards the door, waving as he rounded the corner. She turned back to her workshop, the smile ebbing away as she thought of all of the work she had to do.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Gisborne stepped into the council room, standing before the Sheriff. The older man was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on the table in front of him, his fingers steepled in front of him, making him look like the grand schemer he was.

"Gisborne, why didn't you tell me that our lovely, little blacksmith travels through the woods to get here, and why haven't we taken advantage of it?" The question caught Gisborne off guard, causing him to furrow his brow.

"My lord, I don't follow," he muttered. The Sheriff stood, putting his hands on the table and leaning forward.

"Gisborne, if you haven't noticed, our lovely, little blacksmith could do all of her work in the castle, but she doesn't. She goes home. To whom does she go home?" The Sheriff asked calmly.

"Her mother, my lord. She has an ill mother at home," Gisborne answered.

"Very good. Now, does our lovely, little blacksmith have a husband?"

"She is unmarried," Gisborne replied slowly, not liking where the Sheriff was going with this line of questioning.

"Good. Propose." Gisborne looked at the Sheriff as if the man had just sprouted an extra head.

"Sir?"

"Propose. You know, Gisborne. That thing that you tried with Marian. Now, off you go." The Sheriff waved a hand, dismissing a dumbstruck Gisborne from the room. Gisborne, however, remained rooted to the spot.

"My lord, why?" The Sheriff rubbed his temples. What was it with henchmen and questions? Why couldn't they mindlessly follow orders, like in the good ol' days?

"Close the door and make sure no one finds out."

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Allan opened the door to the workshop without knocking, grinning as he spotted the large pile of finished swords. Morgan was hammering out a piece of armor, completely absorbed in her work. She didn't seem to notice Allan's entrance, a fact that he used to sneak up behind her and quickly clap a hand onto her shoulder. She jumped, dropping the piece of armor and the mallet she had been holding, letting out a yelp of surprise.

"Allan, that was not funny!" she hissed, leaning over to pick up her tools. He chuckled.

"I thought it was hilarious. Anyway, Morgan, Gisborne wants to see you," he informed, crossing his arms over his chest. She set her things down on the table, her hands moving to her hips.

"Why?" she asked. Allan shrugged.

"Dunno. He only asked me to come and get you. C'mon. He's waiting in the courtyard." Morgan followed Allan, adjusting her clothes, wiping her hands on the front of her apron. There was a small crowd in the yard, all muttering amongst themselves, some of them glancing at Morgan with piqued interest. She grabbed onto Allan's hand, suddenly very nervous. He looked back, smirking in the arrogant, obnoxious way that Morgan couldn't help but smile at. Guy of Gisborne stood in the center of the yard.

"Morgan, I've something important to ask you," he began, sounding out of sorts.

"Yes, Sir Guy?" Morgan replied, concerned by the man's uncharacteristic behavior.

"Morgan. You're brother is off in the Holy Lands. You're mother is ill. You know me to be generous and of good background," he paused, clearing his throat. "Will you… will you marry me?" Morgan's grip tightened on Allan's hand, her eyes widening. Guy could clearly see that the direct approach wasn't working, so he tried a different attack.

"I can provide for you. Your mother will receive the best treatments, and I will make room for you both at Locksley. When your brother returns from the Holy Lands, I shall see to it that he is also taken care of. Morgan, I want to help you. Please, accept my proposal." Morgan looked between Guy, the crowd of nobles, and Allan, who looked nearly as dumbfounded as she did.

"Me, Sir Guy? A noble like you wants to marry someone like meself?" Gisborne has always been kind to her, but she'd never suspected… After all, everyone knew that he loved Marian… and… The crowd of nobles began to mutter amongst themselves. Guy ran his hands through his hair.

"Morgan. Your answer, please," he prompted. Morgan didn't quite know what to do. Allan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She nodded.

"Aye. I'll marry you," she swallowed, her answer a bit weak. The nobles gave a gentle applause as Gisborne took Morgan's free hand. Her head was spinning. She looked back to Allan, barely registering as a court crier made the announcement.

"Presenting Guy of Gisborne and his wife-to-be, Morgan." Suddenly, the full weight of what she'd just done fell down on her like a ton of bricks.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Marian was quick to make it to the forest, the guards preoccupied with Gisborne's recent announcement. She slowed her horse to a stop, ready to deliver the latest news from the castle. Robin and company peeked out from the trees, meeting her on the path.

"Gisborne's engaged," she called, dismounting her horse. Looks of surprise flew from outlaw to outlaw. Marian continued, "The castle's blacksmith. They're holding a feast for her, and then she's going to fetch her mother."

"The blacksmith? Young lady, dark-haired, green eyed?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. Marian nodded.

"Yes, her name is Morgan. Gisborne's always kept an eye out for her," Marian noted. Robin nodded.

"So, she is a person of value," he mused, "and she has to go get her mother."

"She'll have to come through the woods to get to her," Will stated plainly, cottoning on to Robin's plan. John smiled, leaning on his quarterstaff.

"This plan, we like."

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Morgan paced back and forth, feeling jittery. Allan leaned in the doorway, rubbing at his beard, choosing not to show his panic. Morgan was panicking enough for both of them.

"Allan, what did I just do? I mean, he's always watched out for me, but I don't think I can marry him, Allan!" She stopped, running her hands through her hair. "I can't! I'm not in… I love…" Her frantic words died off as she threw her hands into the air, trying to show her frustration. Allan took her firmly by the shoulders.

"Morgan, calm down. There's something to this. I'll find out," he promised evenly. "Now, head home and get your mum. It's getting late." Morgan nodded, taking a deep breath, heading out the door.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Robin and gang waited, watching for Morgan. She came about soon enough, looking distracted and off-kilter, her old horse stumbling along the path. She did her best to make sure that the horse didn't trip up.

"Easy now, Tinder. Day's been hectic enough without you causing a fuss." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Politely put, she was freaking out, questions and answers clashing in her head. _Why did he propose? Why had she agreed to it?_ The question that tugged at her the most, though, was one that she felt ridiculous for asking herself. _Why didn't he stop me?_

She thought of Allan's bright, blue eyes, how they'd looked so reassuring when he'd squeezed her hand, encouraging her. All of the questions were easily answered. Gisborne had been trying to help, Morgan had been thinking of her mother, and Allan had been protecting her, knowing the consequences of flouting such a proposal in public. Be that as it may, they still spiraled through her thoughts, over and over.

As it had been before, she heard him before she saw him, his voice echoing through the trees, stirring her from her jumbled thoughts.

"Greetings, Lady Gisborne. If you'll kindly stay still, this will be a lot easier." Morgan threw up her hands, reflecting on the way the gesture had changed. The other morning, it had meant compliance. Now, it meant total defeat. She was just too messed up to argue. The way that he'd called her "Lady Gisborne" made her highly uncomfortable, in fact causing her to cringe. It was all too alien to her.

"Terribly sorry in advance, m'lady," came Robin's sarcastic voice, just as something connected with the back of her head. Her vision blurred in front of her, but the reason behind Gisborne's proposal had become painfully clear.

_Bait,_ she thought before she passed out, feeling deeply betrayed.


	3. A matter of loyalty

Her eyes fluttered open to a flickering fire and the panicky one from before

Her eyes fluttered open to a flickering fire and the panicky one from before. No one else was there. She knew better, but she tried to move anyway, not disappointed to find that she had been tightly bound to a tree. She groaned as a headache blossomed behind her eyes, a by-product of the hit to the head and her now-constant worrying.

"You have to let me go," she mumbled, catching the panicky one off-guard. He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, staring at her.

"Surely, you aren't serious," he nearly laughed. It was a nervous laugh, like he disagreed with what the rest of his gang was doing. Morgan closed her eyes, hanging her head, trying to make the headache go away.

"What's your name?" she asked, opening one eye, looking him over. He thought about it for a moment, and Morgan had the insane thought that he'd forgotten his own name and started to laugh. The laughter made him indignant, and he drew himself up, puffing out his chest.

"Much. My name is Much," he proudly announced. Morgan smiled. Allan had told her about Much. The caretaker of the group. Robin's right-hand man. The worrier. One of the nicest people you'd ever meet.

"Much, me name is Morgan. Not being funny, but you've got to let me go," she repeated, turning wide, pleading, green eyes to him. He shook his head.

"No, sorry. I can't. Robin's orders." He did seem a bit apologetic, mustering a half of a smile at her. "D'you want some water?"

He held his canteen aloft. Morgan nodded slowly, his question making her see how thirsty she was. He carefully tipped the water into her mouth, allowing her to drink.

"Thank you, Much. How long have I been here?" Morgan asked, trying to work everything out. Much shrugged, tightening the cap to his canteen.

"Not that long. Just long enough for us to tie you up." Morgan nodded. There was still time. They wouldn't realize that she was missing yet. She'd have to try again.

"Much, I know you probably don't trust me, but you have to let me go." There was a rustle from the woods behind her. She felt her stomach drop.

"We _will_ let you go, once Gisborne gives us a substantial amount of money," Robin explained, entering the camp with the rest of the gang. Morgan shook her head, but immediately regretted the decision, her head pounding in protest. Instead, she voiced her concerns.

"Robin, please, listen to me. You've got to let me go right now. Blindfold me and lead me out of here, I don't care. I just can't be here. I've got to get to me mum and get back to the castle." Robin looked at her, his light green eyes meeting her dark green ones. Was this how Allan felt when Robin had stared him down in the Trip? Like those eyes were showing all the hurt in the world, plunging guilt's knife into his soul?

"Why would we do that, Lady Gisborne?" he asked in a low, mocking voice. Morgan realized the extent to which he'd been hurt, and just what she represented to him. She was friends with Allan. She was engaged, although incredibly reluctantly, to Gisborne. She worked, even more reluctantly, for the Sheriff. She was everything that he hated. She couldn't blame him for the terrible glare that he had fixed her with. She could, however, blame him for letting his anger distract him from something so painfully obvious.

"Don't call me Lady Gisborne. Yeah, it's true, me brother and Gisborne have been friends since I was only knee-high to a grasshopper. Yeah, he's always watched out for me well-being. But he doesn't love me. Everyone in the castle knows that," she blurted, trying to explain the current situation without explaining too much of her past.

The young man with the axe flitted around the tree, scaring Morgan half to death with his sudden, silent appearance. Allan's voice floated through her head. _Will Scarlet, the carpenter. Smart bloke. Serious. Passionate. But quiet._ The boy was in every way Allan's opposite, but Allan spoke most highly of him. Morgan supposed that in the group of outlaws, Will had to be Allan's best friend.

"Doesn't matter," Will shrugged softly, "Either way, he'll pay to get you back." Morgan felt like hitting her head against the tree she was tied to, becoming slightly frustrated at the gang's obliviousness.

"He'll not pay at all. This is all a trap!" she snapped, the word "trap" cracking through the night air like a whip. "I was the bait!"

"So, you admit that you were scheming with Gisborne and the Sheriff?" Djaq asked. Little John wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Them, we do not like." Morgan stifled a scream, kicking her foot against the tree, repeating the gesture until she had let off enough steam to speak.

"No! I would never help the Sheriff plot against you! I hate the Sheriff! I told you before: I only make weapons for him to feed me mum!" She became more and more frantic as she went. She wasn't ready to deal with this. Her brother's best friend had just used her as bait, and he was going to do something else. Something that made her stomach turn.

"We could've cared for you mum, had you just told us!" Robin replied, not prepared to accept this simple reason. Morgan sighed, leaning her head against the tree.

"Look, by the time you came about, Gisborne was already taking care of me. When the Sheriff found out, he told Gisborne that charity was for the weak. So, Guy got me a job at the castle instead. The Sheriff liked me work, so I was stuck. He's already told me that if I stop working for him, he can't very well have me making weapons for anyone else. Said that he'd throw me mum in the dungeons." Morgan had hoped never to reveal her defeat to anyone. Allan, of course, had known, and had given Morgan routes to take where she wouldn't be ambushed.

"Look, this isn't the point. The point is I've got to get out of here. This is all a trap!"

"And what about Allan? You can still be friends with him, even though he willingly went to work for the Sheriff? Even though he willingly betrayed us? Even though he willingly betrayed King Richard? Even though he's a dirty, thieving liar?" Much threw out, his anger with the man coming to the surface. Morgan glared at him.

"Don't you say those things about him! You've no idea what you're talking about! Allan isn't a bad person. He's a good man!" she defended.

"Then why did he turn his back on us!? Why did he go to Gisborne!?" The scream was loud and angry, but it didn't come from Much. It was Will. Morgan looked at her feet, suddenly ashamed.

"Because of me," she said softly. She looked up at the surprised gang, repeating herself a little louder. "Because of me. I told him to go to Gisborne." The admission definitely wasn't helping her at all, but she felt that she needed to take responsibility. For Allan.

"Allan came to me after you told him to rabbit off. He was just going to scarper into the woods. I told him not to," she explained.

"Why?" John asked, slamming his staff into the ground. Morgan thought that it would've been obvious, but she sighed. They didn't know Guy like she did. They didn't know Allan like she did.

"Well, you weren't exactly going to welcome him back with open arms. Besides, Gisborne knew that Allan knew more than he was letting on. He allowed Allan to withhold things, so that Allan would keep volunteering information. Allan never would've told Gisborne where this camp is, or where you're getting your information," she felt suddenly tired.

"He only ever agreed to Gisborne's deal to stop himself. Gisborne would've tortured him until he told him everything. If he ever stopped spying for Gisborne, the man would have him hunted down, arrested, and tortured until he got what he wanted." It made sense, and a wave of realization sweeping over the outlaws. Morgan took a deep breath, continuing.

"So, if he didn't go to Gisborne, he would've been taken in and tortured. That'd be a bit of a problem for you lot. So I told him to go to Gisborne. To save you, but more to save him," she looked away, feeling exposed, guilty, and ashamed of her selfish motives. It seemed to be worth it. The outlaws exchanged glances, still angry with Allan, but understanding why he'd done what he'd done.

"So, what's the trap?" Robin asked, a more gentle edge to his voice. Morgan broke into a wide smile. Finally.

"Alright, then. Gisborne made his proposal public, so whoever is slipping you information could hear it. Your man on the inside tells you, and you kidnap me while I go to get me mum. Gisborne expected that much," Morgan paused, half of her screaming to keep talking, the other telling her not to expose herself any further. "He plans…"

"What is it? He plans what?" Much prodded. Morgan swallowed, suddenly loosing her conviction to speak. Part of her didn't want to admit that Gisborne was capable of using her this way. He'd been like an older brother to her. He couldn't do this. But he _was_ doing it. Tears began to stream from her eyes.

"He's going to use me to get Allan to talk," she whispered, as if saying it out loud would change the truth. "He'll tell Allan that you've got me, and then Allan will lead them here. Gisborne knows that Allan would never leave me out to dry. He's counting on it. I've got to get back and warn him." Robin shook his head.

"No. Too risky. If you just wander back in, they'll suspect you. We've got to move the camp."

"No!" Morgan protested, causing everyone to jump slightly with the volume of her disagreement. "If Allan leads them here, and you're not here, then Gisborne will think that Allan's given him bad information. He'll kill him!" John stepped forward.

"Aye, so we go to Nottingham," he said flatly. Everyone turned to face him. He shrugged. "Then, they know that we've captured Morgan. And Allan won't have to talk. You can't go looking for something that's right in front of you." If Morgan hadn't been tied to a tree, she would have flung her arms around the man and given him a kiss. Robin agreed. With John, not Morgan.

"Morgan, what about Gisborne? Even if he didn't mean to marry you, it'll tarnish his reputation if you don't go through with the wedding. Can you do it?" he asked, catching Morgan off-guard. She hesitated, stuttering a bit before muttering under her breath.

"No. I can't marry him. Even if it'd mean that me mum would live like a noble, I couldn't do it. He's done things that I can't live with," her tone became more inward, as if she was thinking to herself more than answering Robin's question.

"The Holy Lands…" she thought of the things that her older brother had told her before she'd gone back to England. Horrible rumors about Gisborne. She wouldn't have believed a word, had it not come directly from Michael's mouth, had the stories not described Gisborne's odd tattoo, had she not seen Gisborne in the Holy Lands with her own eyes. Her muttering caught Robin's attention, his eyes flashing.

"What did you say, Morgan?" he asked. She repeated herself.

"The Holy Lands. I studied there, while me brother fought with the King. After Acre, me brother found me, told me to go back to England immediately. Said that he saw Gisborne leaving King Richard's tent. I wouldn't have bought a word, only Michael's never told a lie in his whole life, understand? And then I saw him, in the port when I was coming home," Morgan didn't realize that the entire group was staring at her. "I suppose that I didn't want to believe that he was capable of doing something like that." Before she knew what was happening, Will had cut her free from the tree, and Robin had taken her by the shoulders.

"Morgan, you can't go back to the castle. You and your mother have to get far away from here. Who have you told about this?" he asked, an urgency to question that left no room for hesitation.

"No one. Michael made me promise not to say a word. Actually, he told me to tell you, but only you. Says he knows you from the guard." Robin thought, realizing that he did know a Michael, a cheerful man who was almost truthful to a fault. This revelation, piled on top of Morgan's confession put the Prince of Thieves into a daze.

"Robin, I have to go back! For me mum. For Allan," Morgan panicked, bringing him out of his thoughts. He shook his head.

"No. You can't go back to the castle. If Gisborne were to find out what you know, he'd have you killed. You'd be putting your brother in danger as well. And your mum." Morgan normally would've argued, but given the events of the past few hours, she found that she lacked the fervor to defend Guy.

"But, what about Allan?" she asked. There was an awkward silence. The truth was that if Morgan and her mother went into hiding, it could spell disaster for her best friend. The sad thing was that the outlaws weren't exactly concerned. He'd betrayed them, after all. He'd shattered their trust and gone to the other side. Robin sighed.

"Alright. I'll think of something. Morgan, you need to calm down. Much, see that's she's taken care of. The rest of you, with me." Robin muttered, ducking into the woods, the beginnings of a plan blossoming in the back of his mind. Will, Djaq, and John followed him. Morgan sat next to the fire, looking horribly upset. Much took some bread from the larder, tossing it onto a plate along with some of the rabbit that had been cooking. He sat next to Morgan, gently nudging her in the shoulder, showing her the food.

"That's alright, you can have it. I'm not hungry," she muttered politely. Much rolled his eyes. The girl was just like Robin, who would clam up when he was upset and refuse food and drink and basic conversation.

"You're stubborn as a mule, you are." Much commented, though he wasn't entirely sure that he meant to say it out loud. He was surprised to find that it made Morgan smile.

"Me mum tells me that all the time. 'Morgan Weaver, you're as stubborn as a mule, you are.'" She had changed her accent, apparently imitating her mother, her smile broadening. Much returned the gesture, pushing the plate towards her once more. To his satisfaction, she tentatively pulled off a piece of rabbit, chewing thoughtfully. They sat in silence, the fire crackling in place of conversation.

Much noticed for the first time that Morgan was a pretty young lady. Despite the smudges of dirt, she had fair skin, not pale, but not the burnt, red color that most peasants had to them. Her hair was dark, but it had hints of red to it, falling in soft waves at her back. Her eyes were wide and green, like stained glass at sunset. She was small, but didn't look delicate. In a way, she reminded him of Lady Marian. Pretty, but strong. She seemed like a nice enough person, and perhaps that's why the question that Much had been asking himself tumbled out.

"Why do you care about Allan so much?" He regretted asking the question, but Morgan didn't seem to mind, as if she understood both sides of what had happened between her best friend and the rest of the gang.

"Because I know that side of Allan that he hides from everyone else. The side that has never failed to help me when I need it. The side that makes me laugh, that'd do anything to stop me from crying. The side that I…" Morgan looked away, suddenly finding the fire to be utterly fascinating. Much knew that avoidance. He saw it in the Holy Lands, when Robin would say Marian's name in his sleep. Much would ask him about it, and Robin would dodge the question. He understood, putting a hand on Morgan's shoulder.

"Don't worry. Robin will find a way out of this." Morgan didn't turn away from the fire, but she moved her other hand, placing in on Much's forearm. It was as much a thanks as she could muster at the moment. Much was glad, because that was a much a reassurance that he could give.


	4. A matter of planning

Hey

Hey! Thanks to everyone for the great reviews! Hopefully, this next chapter has the gang acting a bit more in character. Enjoy!

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Robin stood, hands on his hips, staring at the full moon. He hadn't moved for a good five minutes, but no one moved to talk to him. He was thinking. John admired that about Robin. Where he saw things as black and white, Robin saw things as fluid and complex. Of course, sometimes it was agitating, especially when the matter really _was_ black and white, and Robin would over-think. Those were the times when John would say something to draw the younger man back in. He couldn't help but think that this was one of those times, but the girl's admission had made him think twice about it.

It would've been perfectly easy to go to Nottingham, pretend that they intended to hurt the girl, exchange her for money, and go. But all that had changed when she started rambling on about the Holy Land and Gisborne and Allan. John frowned.

Allan. John had grown to like Allan, despite the fact that the man was loud, selfish, and rude. He was a good fighter and a better pickpocket. He told funny stories and jokes, but only when it was appropriate to do so. But he had done the unthinkable. He'd turned his back on them. Even if he was more understanding of Allan's actions, John was still mad at him, and no little girl was going to change that fact, no matter how valiantly she defended him, or how obviously in love with him she was.

John didn't understand how people could miss things like that. He'd known about Will's feelings for Djaq. Love was easy enough to spot. He was, however, surprised by Allan's admission. Then again, Allan wasn't the easiest person to read, perhaps the reason that John was so floored when Robin had identified him as the traitor. John frowned again.

There he went, thinking about the traitor again, knowing that it would only make his blood boil to contemplate it further. John tapped his staff against the ground, waiting patiently for Robin to say something.

"We have to give Morgan a chance to talk to Allan," Robin finally muttered. "That way, Allan will know that Morgan is making the choice to run away. She can explain to him why she can't stay there, and if she's right about Allan, he won't lead Gisborne to the camp." John did not like to frown so much, but he found himself doing so as he listened to Robin's plan. He wasn't exactly sure that he wanted to voice his opinion, but he couldn't see Will or Djaq saying what he was thinking. Will and Allan were best friends, he'd be looking for anything to cling to that could prove Allan wasn't a turncoat. Djaq had already said that she believed Allan could've changed. John sighed, his frown directed not only at the flaw in Robin's plan, but with his ability to see the black and white.

"Robin, there is a problem," he finally said. Robin looked over his shoulder, completely ready to hear the older man's advice. John scratched the back of his head. "What if she's wrong about Allan?" As expected, Djaq's gaze flew from John to Robin, almost begging the leader for a rebuttal to John's question. Will's gaze fell to the forest floor. Robin folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath.

"Then we'll have to have a back-up plan. For now, though, we should trust Morgan. She's known Allan the longest. Djaq, John, go to Morgan's house and bring her mother to the camp. Will, I want you to go to Nottingham. Allan's one of Gisborne's men now. He's bound to have patrol duty. Find out when. That'll be out best shot to have him talk to Morgan." At the level-headed presentation of what appeared to be phase one of Robin's plan, the gang scattered. Robin gave one more glance to the moon before heading back to the camp, ready to explain the plan to Morgan.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

She remembered it was snowing; she was about five years old. Before the new sheriff. Before the taxes. Before the starving. Her mother bundled her up tight before allowing her to leave their cottage. Michael was off playing with Guy and wouldn't be back until nightfall. Morgan padded through the cold snow, enjoying the crunching sounds beneath her feet as she walked. Her father was in Nottingham today, selling baskets and so forth in the market. She was going to walk about the town, seeing if any of the little girls wanted to play with her. They never did.

She was so preoccupied with her self-assigned "mission" that she tripped over a tree root, falling flat on her face. She heard someone laughing and turned. It was a boy, just a tad older than she was. He was with another boy, who seemed to be just a tad younger than she was. Morgan scrambled to her feet and put her hands on her hips.

"What's so funny, then?" she asked, thoroughly embarrassed by his laughter. The little boy laughed again.

"Not being funny, but you fell flat on your face. It was like watching a tree fall!" The younger boy nodded, but was shivering too much to laugh.

"I am not a tree, I'll have you know. Me name's Morgan, and I am a girl," she corrected. "What's your name?" The boy tilted his head to the side. Apparently, not many people cared to ask him his name.

"Allan A Dale, and this is my brother, Tom," he said cautiously.

"Hallo, then. Do you want to play with me?" Morgan asked.

"No. Now why don't you scarper off? We're busy." Morgan didn't take to that at all. None of the stupid girls wanted to play with her, and she was fine with that. But this boy had laughed at her, and he was going to make it up to her whether he liked it or not.

"Busy doing what? Freezing your arses off? Besides, I live here. If anyone's going to rabbit off, it'd be you, now wouldn't it?" She pointed out, as if it was obvious. Allan glared at her.

"I don't have to listen to you. Not being funny, but you're a girl." Morgan put her hands on her hips, the way her mother would when she scolded her.

"Not being funny," she replied, copying his phrase, "but if you're going to be mean to me, I may go home and get me brother." To her surprise, Allan smiled.

"That is a fine idea," he agreed.

"What?" Morgan was confused. Most of the children in the village knew that Michael was the best in a fight, and that his little sister was not to be picked on.

"You going back home," he shot, sticking his tongue out. Tom reached up and tugged on Allan's shirt.

"Allan, I'm hungry," he whispered hoarsely, his teeth chattering. Morgan's anger dropped off, prompting her to walk over to the shaking boys.

"Me mum's making pork. D'you want some?" she asked. Allan eyed her suspiciously, but one look at Tom caused him to nod.

"Yeah, but we're only staying for food," he made sure to stress the last bit. Morgan held out a hand, which Allan slowly took.

"Whatever you say, Allan A Dale. C'mon, then. Let's go." Allan and Tom stayed for dinner. In fact, they stayed through the night. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

"Morgan, wake up," Much gently shook her by the shoulder, smirking when she twitched with surprise, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Robin stood on the other side of the fire.

"We need you to talk to Allan. Will's gone to find out when he has guard duty. Djaq and Little John are going to get your mother," he explained. Morgan stood, brushing herself off, nodding at her part in this mission. Talk to Allan. Nothing she hadn't done before. She was glad that her mother was being taken care of. Though they hadn't been exactly hospitable the first time they'd met, Allan's words about both Djaq and Little John put Morgan at ease.

_Djaq is a healer. It seems like witchcraft sometimes, but she can fix anyone… John may look like a bit of a bear, but he's really an alright guy. Straightforward, that one._ Though the thoughts caused her to grin, she caught sight of Robin and faltered. There was something else that Robin wanted to tell her.

"Morgan, you must realize that you have to get out of here. You and your mother will both have to go very far away. This will have to be your goodbye, Morgan. I'm sorry," he trailed off. Morgan stared blankly back for a moment. She never said goodbye. Goodbye was something definite. It meant that she was accepting the possibility of never seeing someone again. Goodbye was something depressing. It meant that she would have to go the rest of her life without seeing someone dear to her. The last time she had said goodbye was a crisp autumn day, when the leaves were falling from the trees and the birds were chirping. She had said goodbye to her father as he went to Nottingham.

Her father hadn't returned. That night, a man came back with Tinder, the family horse, calmly explaining to Michael that there had been an incident in Nottingham. Morgan hadn't been sure of what an "incident" was, but she knew by the way Michael was trying not to cry that she wouldn't see her father again. She blamed it on that word. Goodbye.

"Morgan?" Robin prompted, jarring her from the unpleasant memory. "Do you understand?" She nodded, feeling empty on the inside.

"Of course," she murmured. "I'll meet up with Will at Nottingham, then." Robin didn't move to stop her as she wandered into the trees. Much seemed to be debating with himself, turning to Robin, opening his mouth to talk. He quickly closed it. It wasn't his place to tell Robin, but if Morgan wasn't going to…

"Master, surely there is another way," he spoke up. Robin shook his head.

"She can't stay in England, Much. Not until the King has safely returned." Much buried his face in his hands, amazed at how oblivious Robin could be, despite his flirtatious nature.

"Where will she go?"

"I've a friend in Oxford that can grant her and her mother safe passage to Germany. I'll send a note with her. Maybe Count Friedrich will give her a place to live," Robin thought aloud.

"Master, does she even speak German?" Much asked. "Surely, you can find another way. You can't just pluck her out of her home and set her down in the middle of a place she's never been before." Much couldn't remember the last time he'd argued with Robin like this. Morgan had better be grateful.

"Much, she knows about Gisborne. She can speak against him in and see him done for treason. We have to make sure she's safe, and until the Black Knights are taken care of, England is not safe." Robin pointed out.

"She could live in the woods. With us." The suggestion came out of nowhere, and Much hadn't actually meant it when he'd blurted it out, but after the fact, it sounded like a good idea. "We can send her mother to Scarborough, and she can stay with us. It'd be less risky then getting our weapons fixed elsewhere, and she would get to stay in England. Besides, I'm sure Djaq wouldn't mind having another woman about." Robin started to say no, but a voice spoke from behind him, cutting him off.

"I like that idea." Morgan smiled, "Seeing as I don't speak German and all." She hadn't gotten that far from the camp when she decided to wait for Will in the forest. Robin shook his head.

"Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

"Look, here. The only thing that's stopped me from leaving me work is me mum and Guy. Obviously, I can't trust Guy anymore, and if you can take care of me mum, I'd be happy to join you lot in the woods. I'm handy in a scrape, and I can pull me own weight round camp." Morgan seemed excited about the prospect of living in the woods, fighting injustice and righting wrongs.

"What will you tell Allan?" Robin asked.

"That I'll be fine, that I'm not marrying Gisborne, that I'm going to join your gang. I'll tell him the truth, what else?" she shrugged. Robin rubbed at his chin, mulling it over in his head.

"We'll have to change my plan," he sighed, giving in to the idea. "We can't sneak you out. Even if Allan knows, Gisborne will figure something's wrong when he sees you running with my gang." Morgan put her index finger to her lips, gently biting on her knuckle.

"I think I can take care of it. We can go with Little John's plan. Trust me," she smiled, a certain aura of smugness to her tone, as if she really did have it all sorted out. Will ducked through the trees.

"Allan's on guard now." Morgan looked to Robin, who jerked his head in the direction of Nottingham.

"Go on, then," he urged. "Will, Morgan is our newest member. And she has a plan. Make sure you help her." Will looked supremely confused, but led Morgan towards Nottingham. Morgan glanced over her shoulder, mouthing a quick "thank you" to Much, who bowed his head slightly, accepting it.

"Master, you aren't going to ask about her plan?" Much asked, suddenly noticing that Robin hadn't even questioned her. Robin shrugged.

"You obviously trust her, Much. That's enough for me."

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Author's note: Awww, friendship.


	5. A matter of facts

So, this is the big fight scene

So, this is the big fight scene! I apologize in advance, fight scenes have never been my specialty. Next chapter should be the last for this story. Enjoy!

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Allan didn't like the new uniform. It was rigid and tight, not at all comfortable. He kept tugging the hem of his vest, trying to make the fabric hang more loosely. He stood out in the fading daylight, on a remote post of the outer wall.

Just a few days ago, he'd knocked out the guard standing where he stood now, sneaking into the castle. He sighed. He'd never be able to go back to those days again. The gang would never welcome him back. Not after what he'd done. He hadn't been able to convince Robin to give him another chance. He sighed. He hadn't been able to uncover anything about his new boss' proposal to Morgan, either.

Allan smiled at the thought of her. Morgan, who always made a fuss over him, always did what she could to make him feel better, always thought of his well-being before her own. It was almost a fault, her overwhelming selflessness.

Just after he'd been robbed blind by his own brother, he'd gone to see her. She'd known what had happened without him saying a word and immediately brought him food and money. He'd taken it without thinking, and for that he was ashamed. He found out later that she'd only kept enough money to buy food for her mother. Allan laughed at the thought of Morgan's mother. Elene was always picking on her children, her daughter especially.

"_Morgan Weaver, you stop bothering that poor lad. He'll be sick of you,"_ she once said. Allan had stopped by to visit. The day before, he'd been hunting and had cut himself in the arm. As soon as he had stepped into the yard, Morgan had spotted him, fussing at the clumsy bandages, dragging him inside and cleaning his wound.

Allan shook his head. Elene had been wrong. He could never be sick of Morgan. In a way, she was the one who'd kept him going as long as he had. She was his own personal Robin Hood. Allan grimaced, still unwilling to think about Robin's eyes, glaring at him. He revised that previous thought. She was his own personal Night Watchmen. Allan nodded. Yes, that made more sense.

He frowned, the scene from earlier that day running through his head. Just what was Gisborne aiming at, putting Morgan on the spot in public like that? Morgan often told Allan that Gisborne had been friends with Michael, and she insisted that Allan had met him once when they were young. She often said it, the sound of her voice in his ear.

"_Guy's always watched out for me, Allan."_Even so, everyone in the castle knew that Gisborne was head over heels for Marian. Allan scratched at the back of his ear, thinking hard. It wasn't right of him to do that to Morgan. If you don't love someone, you don't ask them to marry you. That's just the way things worked. Poor Morgan. She was so thrown by the whole thing. It wasn't what she deserved. She deserved kindness and prosperity, not a forced marriage.

"Allan!" The call was so soft he barely heard it. He looked wildly about, trying to make sure he wasn't hearing things. "Allan, over here!" He followed the voice to a nearby barrel. Someone popped up behind it, and he smiled at the sight of Morgan, grinning madly as she peeked over at him, wriggling her fingers in a wave. He made sure no one was watching, stepping over to the barrel. How had she gotten there without him noticing?

"Allan, I've got news," she said, excited. "You can't tell anyone that I was here. I'm going to join Robin Hood's gang." Allan thought he'd misheard, doing a double take. Morgan? Running with Robin?

"What?" he asked. Morgan looked around, pulling the hood up on the long cloak she was wearing, covering her face. She walked to Allan, putting a hand on his arm.

"Allan, I can't work in the castle anymore. I know about Gisborne's trip to the Holy Land. Robin's taking me mum to safety, and he's let me join his gang. I need your help," she whispered. Allan stared at her for a moment. She was joining Robin? After he'd thrown him out of the gang?

"Morgan, how could you?" he asked incredulously. "Was this your plan all along? Make sure I wouldn't run back to Robin so you could slide in and steal my spot?" He hadn't meant it, but that didn't change the fact that he'd said it.

Just like in the Trip, when he'd said those things to Robin. Part of him had meant it. The part that had come about as a result of his unstable child hood, the part that had been orphaned, left to fend for himself and Tom. The rest of him felt horribly guilty. Morgan stepped forward, just as Robin had. Her green eyes shone with hurt, just as Robin's had. Unlike Robin, however, Morgan hugged Allan around the middle, rather then shoving him into a post.

"Were you any other man, I'd slap you in the face," she said in the authoritative tone that she rarely used, letting Allan know that he'd toed the line.

"Morgan, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it," he apologized quickly. Morgan shook her head at him, fighting off a smirk.

"I know. Now, I need your help. _You_ need your help." She corrected herself. Allan thought about that for a moment.

"What?" he finally asked. Morgan put her hands on his shoulders.

"It was all a trap. To get you to lead Gisborne to the camp. That's why he proposed in public, so Robin would find out about it and kidnap me as I went home to get me mum." Understanding flashed in Allan's eyes, accompanied by a frown. How dare he? Who did Gisborne think he was, putting Morgan in danger like that? Of course, Allan knew that Robin would never hurt Morgan, but that was hardly the point. He was so caught up in thought that he didn't realized that Morgan had been talking to him.

"Allan, are you listening?" He snapped out of it.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he asked, grinning sheepishly. Morgan rolled her eyes.

"They're going to tie me up and bring me to the front gate in about an hour, pretending that they want to trade for money. That way, you don't have to show Gisborne the camp. Now, this is where it gets a bit complicated. Remember, after I came back from the Holy Lands, and you and Tom and I went on that trip?" Allan nodded, not saying anything, allowing Morgan to push forward. "You remember the bit with the knight?" Allan grinned, knowing precisely where she was heading with the trip down memory lane.

"You want to pull that on Gisborne," he said more than asked. Morgan nodded.

"It'll have to be really good, though, Allan. Good enough for me to become an outlaw over it. Alright?" Morgan asked. Allan looked around before nodding, clapping Morgan on the back.

"Yeah, alright. It's not going to be easy, though," he muttered.

"Didn't say it was going to be," she laughed. She started to walk away, but Allan grabbed her by the wrist.

"Morgan, would you have done it? Married Gisborne, I mean." Allan asked. Morgan stiffened.

"No," she finally said. "I couldn't. You don't go marrying people you don't love. It's just not the way the world works." Allan let go of her wrist and smiled. She made her way towards the forest, waving over her shoulder as she went.

"Good," Allan muttered to himself, returning to his duties.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Will jumped as he felt the hand on his shoulder, his hand moving towards his axe before he realized it was only Morgan. She was grinning, raising her hand in a salute.

"Mission accomplished!" she announced. Will couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, heading back to the camp with the new member in tow. Will could hardly believe that she was older than he was, the way she carried on, acting like life was a big game. She reminded him of Allan.

He pushed the thought from his mind. Allan wasn't a member of the gang anymore. Even if Morgan had taken up for him, Will knew that he couldn't just walk back into the ranks. Regardless of his reasons, Allan had still betrayed them. Morgan pulled her hood back, playfully punching Will in the arm.

"Hey, don't look so down, Will Scarlet. Everything's gonna be alright," she reassured. Will wasn't sure why, but he believed it when she said it. He nodded at her, showing his agreement rather than speaking it.

"So, what's the plan, Morgan?" he asked. Morgan launched into an explanation immediately. Apparently, she'd been waiting for him to ask. She spoke very fast, and Will only really caught every other word, but he got the gist of it. It was an interesting plan, to say the least.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

They approached the gate. At least, Morgan guessed that they did. She'd been bound and blindfolded. Little John had her slung over his shoulder, carrying her as soon as they'd gotten clear of the woods. Robin called out into the night.

"Tell Gisborne that if he wants his fiancé back, he'll have to bring a chest of silver down right away!" The guards scrambled, following Robin's instructions for fear of endangering the future Lady Gisborne. Soon enough, Gisborne exited the gate, Allan right behind him. Several guards crowded around an opened chest, brimming with silver.

"Send her over, Hood!" Gisborne barked. Robin shook his head.

"The silver first, Gisborne!" there was a moment of silence, tension taking place of talking. Allan cleared his throat, causing Gisborne to turn to him.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. Allan raised an eyebrow.

"Not being funny, but this could go on all night. I'll wheel the cart out halfway, and one of the outlaws can walk her halfway. We meet in the middle. Swap. It's done." He suggested. Gisborne nodded in approval.

"Hood! I'll send one of my men with the chest. Meet him halfway with the girl!" Robin turned to his gang, as if seeking a consensus. He turned back to Gisborne.

"Deal!" he called, nudging Little John, who put Morgan down, taking her blindfold off and pushing her forward, following close behind her. Allan pushed the cart with the chest forward. As they met halfway, Morgan and Allan exchanged glances. John took hold of the cart, shoving Morgan at Allan, who quickly untied her hands. They slowly backed away from each other. As soon as Morgan was on the other side, Guy moved to make sure she was alright. Robin took this as a signal.

"Very caring, Gisborne. Why didn't you care like that when you sent her into the woods by herself this afternoon?" Morgan paused, looking at Guy, suspicion lighting in the back of her eyes. Robin continued. "Trying to get Allan to lead you to us, right?" Morgan stepped back from Gisborne.

"Guy, you didn't." Gisborne looked between Robin and Morgan.

"No, of course not," he said hastily. Morgan backed up another step. Robin grinned.

"It was a good plan Gisborne, but using her as bait? That's cruel, even for you!" Gisborne glowered at Robin. Morgan's eyes widened with horror as Robin kept talking. "Why else would you send her without guards?"

"You lout!" Morgan cried, sounding absolutely infuriated. She grabbed the hilt of the nearest soldier's sword, drawing it and pointing it at Gisborne's throat. "How could you?"

"Morgan, it wasn't my idea!" he tried to explain, but she wasn't hearing it.

"So you admit that it's true?" she asked. "And the horrible rumors about you? True as well?" Gisborne didn't say anything, knowing that he'd be exposed as a liar. His silence had the same effect. Morgan raised the sword, taking an angry swing at him. There was a flash of silver and the clanging of metal. Allan had drawn his own sword, narrowly stopping Morgan from taking off Gisborne's head. The sheriff's right-hand man stared at Morgan in shock, barely registering the exchange between her and Allan.

"What do you think you're doing?" Allan asked. Morgan growled.

"I'm going to kill him!" she screamed angrily. Allan pushed her away by kicking her in the stomach. The guards moved to break up the fight, but Robin and his men moved forward. Morgan and Allan were engaged in what could only be described as a miniature war, taking vicious swings at each other, fighting incredibly dirty. Gisborne's disbelief melted into anger.

"How dare you turn on me? I've cared for you for years, Morgan!" he demanded, drawing his own sword. Morgan glared back at him, bringing her sword up just as Allan swung in a powerful, downwards arch.

"And you were going to send me into the hands of outlaws!" she accused, "And all of the things that you've lied to me about!" She tackled Allan around the middle, pinning him down, giving her more time to yell at Gisborne.

"Mark my words, Gisborne! I will run you through, you lousy, stinking turncoat! For King Richard!" Morgan declared grandly. Allan slid out from underneath her. Both of them had lost their blades, so they ran at each other, rolling around on the ground, plunging over the side of the bridge, into the ditches with Nottingham's poor and homeless. Gisborne moved to go after them, but he caught the flashing of a blade out of the corner of his eye. He brought his sword around, facing Robin.

"Forgot about me, Gisborne? I'm hurt," he joked.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

They rolled about on the ground some more, just to keep up appearances.

"Did you have to hit me so hard, Morgan?" Allan whispered into her ear. Morgan nodded.

"It had to be believable, remember?" she laughed, "Now hurry up and lose." They made sure they were in plain sight before Allan took a swing at Morgan. She ducked, thrusting a fist into an uppercut, closing her eyes as it connected with Allan's chin, sending him sprawling. He winked at her as he fell onto his back, playing possum. With a nod, she climbed back onto the bridge, running at Gisborne just as Robin called out.

"Time to disappear! My gang, this way!" he beckoned. Little John grabbed Morgan by the waist, slinging her over his shoulder, stopping her from attacking Gisborne again. She continued to scream threats at Gisborne until they were safe in the forest. Little John put her down, and she burst into fits of laughter.

"Think he was mad enough?" she asked, "Or should I have yelled a bit more?" Djaq put a hand on Morgan's shoulder, grinning just as broadly as the blacksmith was.

"I think he got the message."


	6. A matter of trust

Here's the last chapter in this particular story

Here's the last chapter in this particular story. I hoped you've all enjoyed it. Thanks to jeps, RixxiSpooks, Soapy-Liedown, and gatewatcher for reviewing! There'll probably be a few notes at the end of this chapter.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

The celebration in the outlaw's camp lasted far into the night, carrying into the young hours of the next morning. Granted, they did have a lot to celebrate. In Morgan, they had a witness to the crimes committed by Guy of Gisborne, proof of his treachery. In Allan's contribution to Morgan's decidedly bizarre plan, they had hope that maybe Allan hadn't truly abandoned them. They'd successfully delivered Morgan's mother to a safe place up north. Yes, it had been a good day.

Robin laughed, noticing the way that the camp had become suddenly quiet. They'd all been laughing so loud and telling stories, only to suddenly start falling asleep, the adrenaline from just hours ago starting to wear off. Morgan was sitting on the floor, in the middle of everything, as if eager to throw herself into the outlaw lifestyle without any hesitation. She was hugging her knees to her chest, rocking backwards as she started to fall asleep, only to wake up with a start every time she fell back too far.

"Morgan, you don't have to sleep on the ground," Much noted, about to pass out himself. Morgan yawned, looking around the camp. There was an empty spot on a sort of loft, covered in a few blankets. She climbed into the space, stretching out across the loft and quickly falling asleep. As her eyes closed, she realized that she hadn't asked if she was taking someone's bed, but she was asleep before she could get the question out.

The outlaws didn't think it necessary to tell her that she was taking a kip in what had been Allan's favorite spot. It just seemed right.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

"Morgan, you climb like a squirrel," Will commented. He had asked her if she could get a better look, and before he knew it, she had scampered up the tree. She was perched on one of the stronger branches, scouting out what used to be her home. Earlier in the day, it'd been crawling with soldiers, no doubt waiting for Morgan to do exactly what she was doing. Allan had been with them. Anticipating her return, he'd discretely moved all of her best tools into a trunk, placing it next to the door of her workshop.

"Bless you, Allan," she muttered, climbing down from the tree, landing with a thud next to Will. The carpenter waited for her to speak, and she was ready to oblige.

"Two guards, they keep walking in circles. All of my things are in that trunk in the doorway. We can run in, knock out the guards, grab the chest, and rabbit off before anyone else notices," Morgan said quickly, stepping forward. Will grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling her backwards.

"Hold on a minute. How do you know there isn't a trap in there?" he asked, trying to get the girl to settle down for a second and focus. Despite the fact that he was younger, Will had made it a personal responsibility to make sure Morgan learned the ropes of being an outlaw, and that included stopping before rushing at any place that had guards near it.

"Allan put the trunk there," Morgan stated matter-of-factly, like her statement explained everything. It didn't, and Will felt it was his duty to point that out to her.

"That doesn't mean that there isn't a trap. I know you and Allan are friends, but he is working for Gisborne now. Like it or not, your friendship doesn't mean that he won't try to pull anything," he said, keeping his calm. Morgan glanced back at her house.

"I know," she admitted. Will was surprised, expecting her to blindly take up for Allan, as she had before. "I mean, he's got to. If it looked like he wasn't really trying, Gisborne would throw two and two together, right? But there isn't a trap here, I know it."

She always spoke with such conviction that Will always found himself nodding, agreeing with her, before he even meant to. He caught himself, looking over at the old cottage.

"You're sure there are only two guards?"

"As sure as there's a sun," Morgan replied, satisfied to see the grin tugging at Will's lips.

"And if there's a trap?" he asked.

"There isn't," Morgan insisted.

"How can you be sure?"

"It's a matter of trust, Will," her reply was soft, without the cocky air of a few seconds ago. Will scoffed.

"Trust? Morgan, I'm sorry. I can't trust Allan," he said, his voice taking on something that he'd only shown twice before. Once in the camp, when the whole gang had argued about who the traitor was, and once when Morgan had tried to defend Allan. This outburst wasn't loud, but it made Morgan recoil as if he'd yelled at her. She wasn't upset about his comment about Allan, she'd come to expect them. She was upset because Will was upset. There was a hurt in his voice that just made her highly uncomfortable.

"I know you don't trust Allan, Will. He gave you a reason not to. But I haven't. Please, trust me," she asked gently. Will looked at her for a moment.

"You're sure there are only two guards?" He finally asked. Morgan smiled.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Robin heard a voice in the distance, knowing that it was Will and Morgan returning. The bit that surprised him was that it was Will doing the talking while Morgan smiled, almost smugly, carrying a trunk between the two of them. He'd never seen Will talking so much, and he wondered exactly what had happened to inspire this unusual behavior. As the two came closer, it became easier to make out what Will was going on about.

"—hurt just watching, I'm serious. It was the most amazing thing, Morgan," he said, and Robin had the feeling that he'd been saying the last phrase a lot, judging by the way Morgan was quickly nodding. And was she blushing, or was Robin imagining it? The pair entered the camp.

"Robin, you missed it. It was the most amazing thing ever," Will practically laughed, setting the trunk down and allowing Morgan to started looking through it. Robin crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Will made his way towards the stream, an uncharacteristic spring in his step. Morgan was holding her various tools up, inspecting them, trying to ignore the fact that Robin was looking curiously at her.

"Morgan, did you get Will drunk?" he asked, joking. Morgan grinned.

"Definitely not. Although if that's his 'happy' face, I don't think we should ever try," she commented. Robin stood for another moment and waited, noticing that Morgan was avoiding his gaze. Finally, she put her tools down and looked up at him.

"I stabbed one of the sheriff's men," she finally stated flatly, going back to sorting her tools. Robin frowned. There was no way that Will had gotten that excited about her stabbing one of the sheriff's men.

"And?" he asked. Morgan sighed, mumbling under her breath. The rest of the gang had come out to see what had Will so riled up. Morgan tried to ignore the curious gazes. Robin decided to start guessing, "Did you kill him?"

"No," Morgan answered, dragging the trunk over to her spot, trying to act as if nothing had happened, not wanting to tell the story. Fortunately, Will had returned from the stream, calmer than before, but a smile still curving his lips.

"Will, what happened?" Djaq asked. Will turned to Morgan, who was avoiding the situation. He looked back at Djaq.

"Morgan stabbed one of the sheriff's men in the foot," he announced, and it became painfully clear that he didn't have the same penchant for storytelling that most had. There was a pause in which everyone looked at the carpenter expectantly. "With a stick." The gang looked at Morgan. They looked at Will. They looked back at Morgan. Back at Will. Finally, Little John said just what everyone was thinking.

"What?" Will sighed, realizing that his story needed more details.

"We were fighting the guards. One of them tried to kick me in the back, so Morgan grabbed him by the boot. He couldn't pull away, so he slipped his foot out of the boot," Will explained. "Morgan lost her balance and fell, and he tried to stomp on her head. It happened really fast. She rolled to the side, grabbed a stick off of the ground and stabbed the man in the foot. And there was just this stick, poking out of the man's foot." Will tried to relay how amazed he was, emphasizing that there was an honest-to-God piece of tree sticking out of the guard's foot.

Morgan felt the gazes return to her.

"Wait, are you saying that she put a stick _through_ a man's foot?" Djaq asked, making sure she had heard correctly. Will nodded. Djaq smiled in spite of herself.

"A pointed stick?" Little John asked. Will shook his head. "Wow." Morgan felt the burning red color creeping back into her cheeks, keeping her stare focused on the mallet in her hand.

"Morgan, is that right?" Robin asked, nudging her in the shoulder. She nodded slowly, turning to face him and surprised to find that he was smiling. Everyone was smiling. Well, everyone except Much, who looked a tad green.

"That… is revolting," he finally commented. Morgan bit back a laugh.

"Well, Will did say that he tried to step on me head, didn't he?" she threw out innocently. That seemed to satisfy the group, and they splintered off, leaving Morgan alone with Robin, who was still looking at her.

"Where'd you learn to fight, Morgan?" he asked. Morgan sighed, knowing that she'd have to explain herself.

"I didn't learn to use weapons until I started making them. Mind you, after me dad passed on, we didn't have the money to buy fancy swords or anything. Michael and Allan taught me, and we used what we had available," she reflected.

"Sticks?" Robin suggested. Morgan smiled slyly.

"Most of the time." Robin stared at her for a moment longer before shaking his head, chuckling.

"You're an odd one, Morgan Weaver," he commented, reaching into his pocket. He fished out a bit of wood, hanging on a piece of string. Morgan had seen it before, hanging proudly around Allan's neck.

"_I don't get it, Allan. It's a bit of wood."_

"_No, Morgan, it's not just a bit of wood. I'd not sell this for all the gold in England."_

"_Liar."_

"_Alright, it's a fair cop, but that's not the point. It's more than a bit of wood. It's symbolic. It… it means that I belong. I'm part of something bigger."_

Morgan put the tag around her neck, running over it with her thumb. She did feel guilty, wearing it when she knew that Allan had been cast out, ripped from something that he felt so strongly connected to. At the same time, he had been right. She felt like she belonged. She looked up at Robin, not trusting herself to talk, not wanting to choke up or cry. He understood, nodding and walking off, leaving her to her thoughts.

True, Allan had betrayed the group. They felt the repercussions of his actions. They were hurt. They were angry. Morgan understood that. She didn't feel it prudent to mention that Allan, in his own, peculiar way, also felt betrayed. People that he had trusted to accept his flaws had turned him away.

Morgan clutched the tag in her hand. She had no way of knowing whether or not the gang truly accepted her. She had no way of knowing that Allan wouldn't wind up hurting her one day. She had no way of knowing, and she didn't care.

"It's a matter of trust," she sighed to herself, going back to arranging her tools.

_O-u-t-l-a-w-s_

Whee! It's done! Just a few notes here about the ideas that went into this story.

_Concerning the Weavers_: I actually came up with the idea of Michael Weaver as soon as I saw the first two episodes of Robin Hood, with Morgan serving as a secondary character. As I continued to flesh their characters out, I decided to leave Michael in the Holy Land. My first ever Robin Hood fic started with his return from the Holy Land. In that draft, which will never see the light of day, he joins Robin's gang after Guy of Gisborne murders Morgan. I decided not to go that way because I really liked writing for Morgan, so I tweaked their backstories a bit, giving Morgan a more prominent role.

_Concerning Allan A Dale_: Allan A Dale has been my favorite character since the first episode, no lie. When I saw the first episode of season two, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and what that meant for poor Allan. Originally, the Weavers had little to do with Allan, but I wanted to do some introspection to his character, so I changed Morgan and Michael's backstory to include their friendship with the A Dale brothers. My goal with writing Morgan that way I did was to focus not on the fact that Allan had gone to the other side, but more on _why_. Besides, everyone loves a little "he's-my-best-friend-and-I'm-too-scared-to-tell-him-I-love-him" romance, right? - Okay, so that might have just been because I'm a hopeless romantic.

_Concerning the rest of the gang_: Wow! I really hope that it doesn't sound like I don't like the gang, because I love every one of them. I just wanted this particular story to focus on Allan, so I needed to have the gang act justifiably enraged. I know that I underplayed Djaq, Little John, and especially Marian. Promise that I'll include them more in my next story, which should be pretty interesting. At least, I hope it is.


End file.
